


The Softest Shade Of Gray

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliborn (mentioned) - Freeform, Dream Bubbles, F/M, GrayUmbra, I'l go down with this ship, Karezi (red) is another OTP, POWER OF THE TAGS, Pale GrayUmbra - Freeform, Sad Karkat, but doesn't happen here, feel it, hahahahaha, insecure Calliope, limeblood to mutantblood theory, mentions of abusive kismesistude, originally posted on FF dot net, rarepairs, seriously though GrayUmbra is OTP, thats Karkat and Callie as Moirails, thats the GamRezi, though you folk can use it to put them in different quadrants, wow lookit all those tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: Calliope had grown lonely.. . .But no one ever came. None were to find their way there.Until one did.And she certainly wasn't expecting a Blood player.





	The Softest Shade Of Gray

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So this is originally from Fanfic dot net. I'll be posting a few things here but not much. I'm under the same name over there.
> 
> Not gonna explain this it was a while ago. I legitimately ship Pale GrayUmbra though.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: Do I seem like Hussie to you? I don't think I can ever write quite that epically (Jacques is still my favourite author).**

_The softest shade of gray_

Calliope had grown lonely.

Awaiting in the darkness for her brother's wrath; unable to talk to anyone for fear that she'd be found, or worse yet, drag them into danger. If someone came of their own accord - and they weren't too bright like a Light or Hope player - then she'd allow a span of time for interaction. For if one found their way here, in this dark, isolated space, then they must be a player worthy of such a hidden place. But no one ever came. None were to find their way there.

Until one did.

And she certainly wasn't expecting a Blood player.

* * *

* * *

 

Karkat was lost.

He'd slept, only to awaken in a dream bubble. A-freaking-gain.

On one hand, there was much to learn from the ‘dancestors’; Meenah told him all about their fighting strategies (even if she was a bit over dramatic and pun-filled), and even Aranea (who babbled more than a brook after a Spring thaw, to use a Human term) was chalk full of invaluable information.

The rest of them were various annoying things that could only be described with expletives. Like Kankri.

Scratch that.

Especially Kankri.

So to say Karkat wasn't pleased to open his eyes to the dark luminosity of a dream bubble was a complete understatement.

Nevertheless, he dragged himself off of the dark floor (strange that it wasn't the meteor, but that happened at times) and began to wander through the joke-of-the-veil, mentally preparing himself for one of Kankri’s outrageously offensive verbal assaults.

It was less than two minutes later that Karkat realized this wasn't the dancestors’ dream bubble. At minute three, a brief panic took over, only to be quickly replaced with annoyance. He growled, clenching his fists, then continued to walk through the dark sphere, its walls gleaming dark like obsidian and tar.

He hoped there was something in the stupid bubble.

* * *

 

* * *

At the other end of the bubble, sitting crossed legged on the ground, and her chin in her hand, Calliope woke up.

It really did get boring after awhile. One could only do so much stuff by themself, especially when under constant threat of imminent death. There was no need for the ‘dead’ to sleep, but it was a good way to pass time unconsciously. And sleep she did.

That is, until a ripple of disturbance woke her up.

She wasn't a Space player for nothing, after all. And even though she never discovered the power of her class, she still had the instincts of her aspect.

Calliope rose quickly, dusting off her green suit. She glanced to and fro, looking for a place, anyplace to hide. But a voice was already rounding the corner…

Luckily, in a dream bubble, you can bring up anything from memory. Unfortunately, all that came to Calliope’s mind was her old juju chest. And a box of whoppers. Man did she miss chocolate.

She dove behind the juju chest, quickly shifting into her Trollsona. She put her hands on the chest, peeking over it awkwardly; She knew none of this would help, but perhaps it would take the newcomer off-guard?

As the voice became distinguishable as male, so the words became coherent. Calliope would have blushed at such language, had her brother not used it so often, and if Cherubs could blush to begin with. But boy, did this guy have her brother beat in the F-bomb-a-thon.

“–awful place! At least -n Kankri’s not here; he'd probably start spewing -dawful -t so offensive, that this stupid -ing dream bubble’d begin crying dream ghosts! And then – hey. Who's there?”

From around the corner (strange how “walls” appeared from the infinite darkness of the bubble) came a young troll, about the same age as her. He seemed a bit older, with dark hair that seemed to be getting a little raggedy at the ends, and eyes that were wary, as though of someone who'd been through too much. He wore a turtleneck (a turtleneck!) with a symbol like two comets chasing each other infinitely. It reminded Calliope of the double snakes in her symbol. He was taller than her, but not that tall, and of a thin build (though he looked as though he was a quick, strong fighter). His eyes were gray around the pupil, beginning to fade and getting ready to fill out with his blood color.

She took all of this in with a glance, too shocked to do much else. She blinked rapidly when he waved his hand in front of her (it was gray! Actually gray!) asking, “Are you okay? I haven't seen any trolls away from the dream bubble before…”

She spoke without thinking. “I’m not a troll, and this is a dream bubble.”

He stood up, brow scrunching in half-irritable and half-confusion. “Sorry. I meant my dream bubble. Well, my dancestors dream bubble. Seeing as they're connected with our game…” His eyes narrowed as he dropped off. When he next spoke, it felt like an accusation to Calliope, though it was only his normal semi-anger. “Why are you dressing up like a troll if you're not one?”

Calliope stood, dusting herself off. Her voice was filled with irritation. Her first time meeting an honest-to-goodness troll, and he keeps reminding her of her brother! “Because my true species terrifies most aliens, and I greatly admire the troll species, Sir. Now, what are you doing in my bubble where you have no right to be?” She jabbed an accusatory finger at him.

“Hey, hey; cool it. I just woke up here! I've been trying to get out of this -ing idiotic place for ages! And I'm not some “sir” ,” he growled, using mocking finger quotes. “My names Karkat Vantas and I'd leave if I -ing could!”

She crossed her arms. “Finished?”

“No I am not finished! Not only do I get pulled into some weird dream bubble; the only creature I meet is some alien who ‘admires’ my species for some -ing reason when in fact were the worst gog-damned species to ever -ing exist! And this is on top of all the other -t I deal with!”

It was awkwardly quiet for a few moments, as Karkat tried to gain the oxygen he'd expelled during his rant. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Now I'm done.”

She sighed. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Calliope - my Trollsona is Callie Ophee - and this is my dream bubble. I apologize for shouting at you - it's just that no one should be able to find their way here.”

Karkat tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Because…” She turned around, crossing her arms. “Because it's none of your buissness!”

He stamped a foot down. “Hey! I thought we ‘made up!’ ”

“Nope!” She turned briefly and stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “You never apologized!”

“Why you little-” he cut off as when she turned and grinned at him. She had been messing with him!

“High-strung much?” She taunted.

He huffed and turned away from her. “Well excuse me. I think anyone who plays this stupid game has the right to be a little high-strung.”

Her expression fell. “You're right; I apologize. Trust me, I really do understand. The game is one of the worst things that can happen.”

Karkat whipped around, eyes wide. “You're a player?!”

Calliope smiled sadly. “Yes, but it's along story. If you.. if you have the time to hear it, that is?”

Karkat thought a minute, then shrugged. It's not like he had much else to do; Kanaya ignored him in favor of Rose, Terezi was usually off with Dave and the Mayor, and he hadn't spoken to Gamzee since they shattered diamonds…

He pushed away the depressing thoughts. He may as well hear this Calliope’s story. It may even help them. Plus, she didn't raise his blood pressure nearly as much as most people did.

* * *

* * *

 

Calliope’s story was like a surreal version of theirs; a doomed game. But the main difference was, that there were only two players.

Karkat learned that she was the Muse of Space; a very rare position. And her brother was the Lord of Time.

It didn't take him long to figure it out.

_“What?! You're brother is-!”_

_“Shhh! Do you_ want _him to find us?”_

_“Sorry…”_

He learned a bit about the Cherubs; they were born with dual personalities in one body. A benevolent and a malevolent personality. A lime blood, and a candy red blood. Always a male and a female, though each could be either role, depending on which parent won.

(Karkat thought that their form of reproduction was strange, but in comparison he admitted his own species’ was strange.)

“So you're a lime blood?” He had asked, shaking a little.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“I know what you're thinking; but our species are quite different, even in terms of blood color. The lime bloods in your society did have some strange power, that the highbloods felt threatened by, but as far as I could find out, there was nothing wrong with them. The Condesce - about two before your current one - just one day took a disliking to the class, and ordered for them to be killed off. But it's not as if that caste is gone altogether.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked at him strangely. “Don't you know? I'm sure your species should have figured it out by now; genetics are a wonderful thing you know.”

“What happened to them?”

“Okay, okay. Calm down, I'm getting to that. Genetics are wonderful, because genes can surprise themselves, or even change, to preserve a genetic line. Hey Karkat - what is your blood color?”

“What does that have to do with…?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He tried again, but even after all this time, it was still hard to say it.

Calliope tilted her head, watching him with narrow eyes. “You're a candy-red blood, right?”

He nodded.

Her face relaxed back into a soft expression. “Sometimes a gene will change, repress something, and become something new. But it is still part of what it once was.” She said softly.

“What happened to them?” He asked quietly.

“The gene mutated,” Calliope breathed.

“Wait,” he said, taken aback. “Are you saying…?”

“That the Lime bloods became the Candy-red bloods, or Mutant bloods, as your people say. Yes. Why do you think The Condesce wants you all dead? She knows very well where you come from; your inheritance. Why else would she want you all dead? Tell me, does your caste have any abilities?”

“No.”

She shook her head. “Wrong. You do. It's just either suppressed, waiting to awaken, or something new is flowing through your veins. It is simply a matter of finding it. Tell me, how long does a Candy-blood live for?”

He snorted. “As long as no one knows their blood color; what do you -ing think?”

Calliope clicked. “No need to get rude. If a Candy-blood were to be left to live their whole life span, then it'd be about - wait, give me a minute. You guys use sweeps instead of units.” She muttered to herself, counting on her hands. She eventually shook her head. “Never mind. It'd be more than the Psiionic caste, that's for sure. It may even be more, since you're the more durable version of the Lime bloods.”

He laughed sharply. “Durable? I'm shorter than everyone, my horns are nubby, and I don't even have a proper kill instinct!”

“That's not true,” she cut in. “You're smaller, yes, but even I can see you'll grow taller. You're lean, but that means you're quick. And trolls aren't naturally keen to kill one another; not in the beginning!”

“And my horns?”

Her mouth quirked into a small, half-grin.

“I'm afraid you're stuck with nubs.”

The conversation changed much from there. Karkat told her about the trolls session, and how it tied in with the kids. (She cut in and mentioned kids of her own; in the sense that she had been monitoring their game before she died. She said that perhaps they were the post-scratch kids that were sought after.) He told her about his aspect and class; the Knight of Blood.

She was quite surprised, and explained to Karkat that neither the Knight class nor the Blood aspect were the type of people who should find her. A Rogue, a Thief, an Heir, Seer, and maybe a Sylph could find her, only if they were of the Void, Space, Life, and maybe Breath aspect. But, she admitted, she's never really taken into consideration the blood aspect. Perhaps because she was a Lime blood and he a Candy-red blood? But that didn't exactly explain how a Knight should be able to find her. Shouldn't he be with his friends, wanting to protect him.

He grudgingly admitted that they didn't seem to need, or want, his “protection.” And there was another Knight on their meteor.

She asked him if he was lonely.

He said no, he had plenty of friends.

Because I'm lonely, she continued.

After some silence he finally said, that he had lied; he was lonely. No one spoke with him anymore, and yet ignored him when e passed by or spoke, they were too busy, simply too busy, and he didn't have a Moirail anymore-

He cut off there, his voice choking up. But he would not cry. He wasn't allowed to then, and he wouldn't let himself now.

Calliope looked at him with genuine concern. “I'm sorry.”

And the he broke his own damn promise and began to cry.

* * *

* * *

 

**‘C’**

When he first left, he said he would come back, though she didn't believe him. After all, this place was hidden, and at first he had only found it by accident.

So surely, he couldn't return?

But he did; full of anger and venom, that she'd learned by now was mostly a façade. He was angry at himself, not the world. He felt he was the problem. But he wasn't, and she was determined to make him see that.

He didn't cry again, not for a long time. When he first had, she had tried to talk him through it. Not all relationships worked out. And as she got more details, she pointed out that he wasn't getting enough and was giving too much. A relationship needs effort from both sides to work out.

He had asked why she was helping him.

I'm your friend, she had replied.

Oh, he'd countered.

Anyways, as time went on, they swapped more of their stories and about themselves. He let her talk as much as she listened, letting her know that Lord English’s creation wasn't her fault. He was always going to exist, and she had no chance of stopping it.

**‘A’**

They talked about the kids they had watched, interacted with. Karkat admitted to having a small blackrom crush, but that it had dissipated. She admitted to having Pale feelings for one of them, to the best that a Cherub could feel them, but after realizing they wouldn't be requited, she was happy that they were still friends.

She also thinks her brother had (has?) a blackrom crush on the Crocker girl. They both shuddered at that.

**‘L’ ‘I’**

He didn't question when, during each visit, she drew a letter in the ground. The dream floor gave way into onyx sand, allowing her finger to trace a letter smoothly each time. He kept them all in mind, knowing that when she was done he'd know why she did it.

**‘B’ ‘O’**

He eventually told her about Terezi.

About how he cared so much it hurt sometimes.

That he cared for her like a Matesprit, that he hated her with black fury like a Kismesis, that he wanted to ashenly intervene in all of her relationships like a furious Auspistice. Even that he wanted to calm her when she was distressed like a Moirail.

She listened, and thought, and told him that he should tell her. Maybe the quadrants weren't right? Or maybe it was possible to want someone as your friend, lover, and enemy?

He muttered maybe it was because he was a freak with too-hot blood that he couldn't even follow simple troll romance.

She had reprimanded him. He cared, and that made him good. He had tried to fight off a small smile, but she called him out, and he shoved her lightly at that.

When they'd calmed, he admitted that he couldn't fix things with Terezi, but then vowed in the same breath to always be there for her no matter what.

Calliope had laughed and called him a ‘dork’, but a fantastic dork, and he had barred his teeth and called her annoying in a bad imitation of her accent.

**‘R’**

On their seventh visit, he'd asked her to show him what she really looked like.

She'd avoided it, because she was afraid. Afraid that he'd be scared of her green, thick skin that was like scales, skull-like head, and eyes that were a burnt out black in ‘death.’ But he told her that they were friends, and he wouldn't hate her or be scared of her, because he knew her, and that hey, if she could hang out with a mutant like him, then he could handle however her species looked.

So she grabbed her wig in her claws, sliding it off as she shifted back into her true form. She kept looking to the ground, ashamed, until he snorted, “Is that all? The humans are more frightening than that; heck, I thought you were going to look like a Horrorterror with how you went on and on about it.”

She looked up, surprised. There was no disgust in his eyes, no fear. They weren't even guarded as they usually were. He was genuinely okay with her kind, even a little…awed?

He took her silence wrong. “I mean, you don't look like a Horrorterror, nor some kind of monster, though I can see why you'd be hesitant, not that I mean…”

“Oh dear,” she giggled. “Oh my.” She doubled over, laughing harder, until she fell to the ground, rolling around with tears threatening to leak out of her eyes, she was laughing so hard.

Karkat was mortified almost, at first, but soon couldn't help but let a little huff break free. He clapped his hand over her mouth, trying to stifle it. He couldn't help it though, and soon he was following her, sinking to his knees, shoulders shaking, and still trying to cover his mouth as red-tinged tears streaked down his face from scrunched eyes.

It took a long time for them to calm down; such was relief and sympathy, entwining their friendship.

**‘N’**

It was a while before their eighth visit.

And when he did arrive, almost shuffling, and smiling weakly in an attempt to convey that he was just fine, she did the only thing she could think off.

She asked him what was wrong.

And he couldn't not tell her.

His voice cracked and he choked, as tears fell freely. He collapsed and she caught him, as he cried hysterically.

She heard things like _“Terezi”_ and _“Gamzee”_ and _“Kismesis”_ and _“out of hand”_. He cried and sobbed, sputtered and whined because it hurt too much.

She didn't understand much, except that he was worried and hurt for his friends. Because there was a problem and he couldn't interfere. He didn't know how to help.

Calliope didn't know what guided her actions, but her left hand seemed to lift of its own accord. She raised it, and patted him gently, once on the cheek.

_“Shh.”_

(The word felt half-formed.)

He paused, tears still streaking out of his eyes, which were wide open and largely yellow. His mouth hung a little open, a soft ‘Oh’ tumbled forth.

They were paused like that, two living statues in time. Her hand hovering in the air, dropping towards the ground but high enough to pap him again. He was still breathing heavily, from sobbing, but it was gradually dying down. Something had just changed, and after a moment she had realized what. They both reacted at the same moment.

“Di-did you just shoosh pap me?”

“Oh my gosh I am so sorry! That was so forward of me! I-I had no idea that I was going to…!”

He stopped her. “Callie! It's … it's okay. I just wasn't… expecting it.”

They sat in awkward silence; Calliope with her knees drawn up and fiddling with her wig, and Karkat retracting a hand (he'd reached out for her, but decided against it) thinking of what to say.

After a bit, he said quietly, “Why are you still wearing your wig?”

She looked up at him. She was as she truly looked, only with her wig and horns added to the whole ensemble.

“I'm used to wearing my Trollsona around others. Plus, my horns are fabulous, now aren't they?”

He chuckled at that.

And it wasn't like it wasn't true; she just also wasn't comfortable enough being her fully cherub self, even if he was. Old insecurities didn't die over night.

“So,” he said at last.

“So,” she echoed.

He was about to say something else, but stopped. After a moment, he looked away to his left. “Thanks.”

She perked up, clasping her gloved hands tightly. “You're not… offended?”

He looked back at her, confused. “No. Of course not. Surprised? Hell Yeah. Offended? Absolutely not. I just … wasn't expecting it. I'm the probably the worst troll to be pale for - scratch that, I am.”

She reached out and grabbed his arm gently. “Of course you aren't, Karkat. You have problems, sure, but isn't that what friends are there for? To help you?”

“I guess,” he sighed.

She retracted her arm and held it close, embarrassed. “I mean, not that I've ever really had any friends before. Not that I wasn't friendly with the kids, and Roxy was very nice, but never any real frie-”

“Do you want to be Moirails?” He blurted.

He tried not to cringe as she was silent for a moment. Eventually, she found her tongue. “Really?”

He rubbed his arm self-consciously, looking at the ground. “I mean, I'm not the easiest troll to deal with, but you've been helping me lately, and I think I've been helping you. And it just seems…”

“So natural?” She finished. He nodded. It really had, Calliope reflected. Why else had it been so easy to shoosh pap him?

“Karkat.” He cringed, waiting for rejection. “I'd be delighted to be your Moirail.” He looked up, to be met with her smile. “That is, if you're willing to have a green-skull-creature for a Moirail.”

He snorted. “As long as you don't mind listening to a rage-spewing, nub-horned freaking idiot.”

She grinned wider, and held out her hand. He smiled back and took it, only to be tugged into her, and feel her arms wrap around him. And of course, he reciprocated.

And that was how a Cherub and a Mutant-blooded troll became one of the strangest pairs Moirails to exist in paradox space.


End file.
